


anatomy of a date

by softlyforgotten



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-23
Updated: 2010-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/softlyforgotten





	anatomy of a date

Brendon said, "I'm telling you, it was sort of a date! Sort of!"

"Brendon," Jon said, with great patience and a long-suffering air. "You hid under shelter together and shared a coffee while it was raining, because you both busk on the same street. I don't think that can count as a date."

"You keep saying that," Brendon told him, grinning hugely, "And yet you didn't see his smile. He _never_ smiles. Also he's a _street artist_ , not a busker."

"He's a motherfucking mime," Jon grumbled. Brendon spared a second to wonder if maybe Jon was getting maybe a little bit annoyed with Brendon's ongoing stories about the mime at the end of his street (Brendon knew his name, of course. He had _talked_ to him, when they both packed up and went home, a few short exchanges. But he liked the mime's name; he wanted to save it for special occasions, even if that was kind of hopelessly lame). Then he spared another second to wonder if he cared, and decided not.

"He's a motherfucking mime that I went on a date with," Brendon said, and handed Jon his guitar for a moment in order to cartwheel along the grass. When he stood up, the mime was standing on the corner a little way ahead, watching. Brendon grinned hugely and after a moment's hesitation, the mime moved his hand and waved.

" _See_?" Brendon demanded, triumphant, and Jon laughed.

"I don't think that really proves anything, dude," he said, and then he looked wicked. "I know what you should do -- you should ask _him_. To confirm it."

"Fine!" Brendon said, and then stopped, thinking. He wasn't going to back out, though, and while it was maybe a lot weirder than the kind of weird Brendon was usually, if the worst came to the worst, Brendon would just find another street to busk on (with a _broken heart_ \-- uh).

He walked up to the corner and said, determined, "Hi." The mime waved again.

"I'm Jon," Jon said, and the mime nodded, and then pointed at the sign at his feet, that said _SPEAK NO EVIL_ (he had told Brendon, once, that his friend Pete had made it for him, thought it was hilarious, and that he used it to slip into the working mindset).

"Um," Brendon said, gathering his courage. "Okay, I -- I was just wondering, if like, the other day, with the rain, if that counted as a date." The mime went very still, his eyes huge, and Brendon took a deep breath and plowed on, "Because Jon says it doesn't, but I say it does, and -- and if it doesn't then I'd like the chance for another try, please."

For a long, horrible moment, there was silence; the mime flicked darting little glances at each of them, and Brendon was pretty sure that if didn't have face paint on, they'd be able to see him blushing really hard. Still, he didn't _say_ anything, and after a while, Brendon said, "I -- you've gotta say something, please, I'm sorry," and the mime looked miserable, and waved a hand at his sign again. Brendon blinked. "Are you -- you're working? That's why you can't talk?" The mime nodded.

"That's the most ridiculous thing ever," Jon said, sounding faintly pissed off. "We're the only ones around."

Brendon, though, remembered the mime talking about artistic integrity and being kind of pretentious but also really earnest and lovely, and he shook his head. "No, that's -- it's okay," he said, staring at his feet. "It, it's fine. I should--"

But the mime interrupted him, stepping forward a little clumsily, half tripping over the spare fedora lying on the ground, and then he curled his hand around Brendon's neck and kissed Brendon's cheek, mouth lingering soft and warm against Brendon's skin, and leaving a faint smudge of lipstick when he stepped back.

Brendon stared at him, eyes huge, and felt the beginnings of a beam. "Ryan _Ross_ ," he said.


End file.
